


All I Have To Do Is Look At Your Face

by Byrcca



Series: Little Trip to Heaven [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: But it’s really episode 02, Episode: s07e03 Drive, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 10:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14187156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Byrcca
Summary: They were home in their new quarters with the huge bed and the even larger windows, unpacking, organizing, shifting, reorganizing. The honeymoon may be over but it doesn’t have to end.





	All I Have To Do Is Look At Your Face

***

They were home in their new quarters with the huge bed and the even larger windows, unpacking, organizing, shifting, reorganizing. B’Elanna had come with her clothing, Toby, her stuffed targ, a bat’leth, and a stack of padds. But Tom had stuff. Lots of stuff. Their stuff now, he had threatened when she’d commented. _“What’s mine is yours_.” And she’d looked him up and down from boots to hair, and let her eyes settle somewhere in the middle, and they’d forgotten about unpacking for a little while. 

They’d enjoyed their short honeymoon but, truth be told, before the 48 hours were up they were both a little bored. They’d discussed the race, and Harry’s ill-fated love life, and because they were both true to their natures, had come up with some improvements for the ‘ _Flyer_ that seemed obvious after its shakedown cruise. Tom, of course, had waggled his eyebrows suggestively at the word ‘shakedown’. And they’d mused about their chances of talking the captain into approving a _Delta Flyer III_ : fat.

Tom had reminded her how to waltz, as much as they could dance in the tight confines of the shuttle, then taught her the foxtrot to the detriment of his toes and right instep, and they’d blown through Paris Mushy Music one, two and three. They’d actually come back to _Voyager_ five hours early under the pretext that they had to figure out their living arrangements and get themselves sorted before reporting for duty the next morning. Of course, the captain and their friends had already handled that. They’d been given VIP quarters on deck two, “Hey, closer to the messhall,” Tom had crowed, and their things had been packed for them and left in containers on the living room floor. 

Now, they were trying to figure out where to put it all. Their clothing had taken longer than it should though B’Elanna had gladly given over most of the closet space for Tom’s collection of ugly shirts. And she’d had to pry her old leather boots from her Maquis days out of his hands to shut them away in a cupboard. 

B’Elanna walked out of the bathroom after finding room for towels, toiletries, and two bathrobes (one hook) to find that Tom had rearranged the living room. He’d tucked the table close to the replicator, and shoved the television against the wall. He’d nudged the couch back under the window, so you’d either have to lie down to watch tv or risk a crick in the neck. “What are you doing?” A few years ago, she’d have been irritated. Now, mellowing with age and experience, she was merely curious. 

“Creating a dance floor,” he said with a grin. 

“Your feet haven't had enough punishment?”

Tom came to her, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a hug. “I’m wearing my ‘fleet boots. If they can’t take it, I’ll file an official complaint with the quartermaster.” 

“I thought we’d run out of mushy music.”

“Oh, we’ll never run out of music,” he assured her. “Computer, play music selection Paris 50537 point 2.”

She raised an eyebrow at the title. Did he really have over fifty thousand musical playlists? He could be obsessive with his hobbies but this was going overboard. Though, there was something about those numbers that sounded familiar. It could be a stardate.

The sound of a bass _plunk, plunk, plunking_ filled the air as Tom placed one hand at her waist, snugging her hips to his, and pulled her other hand up and aloft, level with his shoulder. He leaned in and rested his cheek against hers, and whispered, “Foxtrot this time.” The sound of fingers snapping rhythmically to the beat joined the bass, and Tom guided her into the first steps: back, back, to the side, back, back, to the side. 

Now a drum making a _kush kush_ sound was added as Tom twirled her. He was holding her a little too closely for the dance, and he leaned in and started to sing quietly into her ear.

_“Never know how much I love you_  
_Never know how much I care._  
_When you put your arms around me_  
_I get a fever that's so hard to bear.”_

She smiled at him and stepped on his toes. He winced. “Back, back, to the side,” B’Elanna said quietly. Tom smiled and sang, 

“ _You give me fever_  
_When you kiss me_  
_Fever when you hold me tight._  
_Fever! in the morning_  
_Fever all through the night.”_

Was it her imagination or was he putting an emphasis on the word fever? 

_“Sun lights up the daytime_  
_Moon lights up the night._  
_I light up when you call my name_  
_And you know I'm gonna treat you right._ ” 

He sent her a big cheesy grin. Another twirl that almost sent them into the couch. He tugged her back toward the center of the room. 

“ _You give me fever_  
_When you kiss me,_  
_Fever when you hold me tight._  
_Fever! in the morning_  
_Fever all through the night._ ”

Wait a minute, she stiffened slightly. Did he just say...gallicite? She fell out of step. Fever. She considered kneeing him.

_“Everybody's got the fever_  
_That is something you all know—”_

Tom must have read her mind because he did a sudden hip twist and jumped back. Unfortunately, he dragged her with him. 

“Tom…” Her tone was menacing. There was a warning glint in her eye. 

_“They give you fever when you kiss them,_ ” he sang, a twinkle in his eyes, trying to coax her back into the dance. 

“I thought we agreed—”

“You agreed,” he corrected. “But I haven’t said a word about _The Incident Which Will Never Be Discussed_. I’m just singing and dancing.” He planted a kiss on her cheek and tugged her to the side.

B’Elanna froze for half a second, then shook her head and smiled despite herself, amused by the officiousness of the title Tom had invented. She allowed herself to be pulled back into the dance. Side, side, other side, side, side. 

They fell back into step, and Tom picked up the song,

_“Fever if you live and learn._  
_Fever! till you sizzle_  
_What a lovely way to burn_  
_What a lovely way to burn_  
_What a lovely way to burn_  
_What a lovely way to burn”_

***

**Author's Note:**

> Fever, written by Eddie Cooley and Otis Blackwell, who used the pseudonym John Davenport. It was originally recorded by American R&B singer Little Willie John in 1956 and released as a single in April of the same year.


End file.
